Beautiful Boy
by TheScarletOctopus
Summary: Beck Oliver's good looks have always been his greatest source of pride, making him irresistible to the opposite sex. But on the day before graduation, a freak accident disfigures him permanently. Now, as he struggles to overcome this life-changing trauma, he'll begin to understand the distinction between being loved for how you look, and being loved for who you are.
1. Momentary Lapse

**A/N: I've determined that people are much more interested in my character-driven dramas than in my action/science fictional stuff. I'm actually more comfortable with action scenes than characterization, but hey, if I never step outside my comfort zone, I'll never grow as a writer. So, to challenge myself as much as possible, I give you a story centered entirely around my least favorite character, Beck.**

**I should stress that this isn't intended as a slam at Avan Jogia, who's quite talented. It's more that his part is criminally underwritten. Beck really has no personality or distinguishing characteristics, other than "He's handsome and girls like him". So, being the sadistic person I am, I decided to strip him of those traits and see how he'd react.**

**As a side note: this story takes place in the same continuity as "House of Cards", but we probably won't be seeing a whole lot of Tori or Trina. It's more that I'm sick of trying to juggle so many different continuities, and wanted to streamline things.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own. **

One more day. One more day, and Beck Oliver, along with the rest of the Hollywood Arts Class of 2013, would be free, diplomas in their hands and the world of adulthood spreading out before them.

It wasn't that Beck hadn't enjoyed his time at HA; the school had allowed him to stretch his creative wings, and he would forever be grateful for that. But since his breakup with Jade nearly a year ago, even his happiest moments were tinged with a certain sorrow.

He had dated, of course, and often. Girls practically threw themselves at him, as they always had. But nothing lasted. There were flashes of pleasure, but they faded quickly, so quickly, the moment that the face of the one girl he truly wanted floated forth from his memory to haunt him.

Things would be different, though, soon enough. He had a full scholarship to Juilliard awaiting him, with all the promise that entailed for future acting stardom. But even better, in some ways, was the fact that he would spend the next four years of his life in New York City. Three thousand miles away from his home, his squabbling parents – and Jade. No more bumping into her in the hallways, exchanging awkward small talk, then fleeing in embarrassment and despair. NYC was the ideal place for those who wanted to immerse themselves in a sea of people and forget about their troubles. Perhaps, among the teeming millions, he would even meet a special someone who would allow him to forget Jade entirely, or at least loosen the shackles of regret he perpetually wore.

Perhaps…but he wasn't entirely sure.

Right now, though, he had other things to worry about – namely his sadistic chemistry teacher, Mrs. Neidermeyer. Every other teacher in school had given the seniors this Friday off, but the Neidermonster (as she was not so affectionately known) insisted that "A day without science is a day wasted!" And so, when he could have been at the beach soaking in the sun, he was instead wearing a lab coat, gloves, and heavy plastic goggles, mixing chemicals beneath a fume hood.

As he carefully picked up a beaker of sulfuric acid, he realized that his lab partner, Amy Sullivan – a bleach-blonde so ditzy that she put Cat to shame – was winking at him.

"What is it?" he said, feeling none too comfortable.

"You look all smart and stuff in that get-up. It suits you."

"Um…thanks?"

"You wanna go somewhere once school gets out? Maybe drive around town a little, then grab some dinner? I'm thinking Italian…"

Jade, who was working at the lab station in front of them, tensed up visibly. For one brief moment, she turned to look at him – and even through the goggles, he could detect the jealousy in her eyes.

Jealousy – and a tinge of sorrow.

Beck flinched. "…Listen, Amy, I'm flattered and all, but I've…er…already got plans." Lying had never been his strong suit.

"Yeah? What kind of plans?"

"Doing…stuff…"

"Hmph!" she snorted contemptuously.

Flustered, he tried to recover his mental balance. _What was I doing? Oh, yeah. Gotta dilute the acid._

He fumbled about for the pitcher of water and tipped it over the acid beaker.

And just as the first drops touched the surface of the deadly yellow liquid, Beck remembered the mnemonic that Mrs. Neidermeyer had drilled into her students time and time again:

_May his rest be long and placid, he added water to the acid_

_The other boy did what he oughta, he added acid to the water…_

He tried to jerk his hand away, but it was too late.

With a loud hiss, an immense spume of acid shot forth from the beaker and struck him full in the face.

Had it not been for the goggles, he would have been blinded. As it was, he had never known, or even imagined, such pain. It felt as though a thousand needles were being thrust into his cheek, every last one of them burning hot. The vicious acid ran down his neck, seeping beneath his shirt collar and pooling on his shoulder. He cried out – not a human sound so much as a howl of sheer animalistic anguish.

"Get him under the shower! Quick!" Mrs. Neidermeyer cried.

Andre wrapped his powerful arms around Beck's abdomen and dragged him under the shower head as Jade, with shaking fingers, turned on the tap. The chilly water began to pour down on him, a soothing balm. The pain faded; its sharpness was replaced by a dull, pervasive ache.

Through the fog of confusion, he could barely distinguish the various panicked shouts around him:

"Call an ambulance!"

"Oh, God, look at his skin!"

"Move back! Give him air!"

"He looks like he's losing consciousness!"

Out of the fog came one clear, recognizable voice, fighting to tamp down its panic: "It'll be okay, Beck. Just hang on."

"J-Jade?" As soon as he had spoken the word, a new, searing agony pierced his jaw.

"Don't try to talk. Just lie down and relax."

She and Andre helped him onto a makeshift bed of piled up fire blankets. In the distance, a siren wailed, rising in pitch and volume as it sped toward the school.

From his prone position, he could just see his dim reflection in the dull steel of the fume hood above. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no…"

His hand went slowly to his cheek.

"Beck, don't!" cried Jade. "Andre, stop him!"

The pianist seized Beck's wrist just as his fingers made contact with the acid burn that ran the length of the left side of his face.

At Beck's probing touch, flakes of reddened skin came loose and drifted to the floor.

_I'm hideous. I'm so hideous…_

And Beck Oliver – self-possessed, stoic, unshakable Beck Oliver – began to weep.


	2. Twisted Smile

**A/N: Thanks to all those who've been reviewing, following, etc. Just as a reminder: the more reviews I get, the faster I update. (Hint, hint…)**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

As the blanket of drug-induced sleep lifted, Beck slowly opened his eyes.

Both his parents were there, sitting beside his hospital bed. Bags hung beneath his mother's eyes, and the wrinkles she had always tried to conceal stood out clearly. His father's nails were worn down to the cuticles by biting.

Beck almost wanted to smile. It was so rare these days for his parents to be in the same room with one another for more than a few minutes without descending into insults and childish name-calling.

"Hey there, son," his father said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, for God's sake – Henry, the doctor _told_ us that Beck shouldn't try to speak!" his mother snapped as she handed Beck a pen and a pad of paper.

"Well, _excuse_ me if my _concern_ for my _son_ has made me a little forgetful."

"You're unbelievable…"

Beck's desire to smile faded away.

He scribbled on the notepad: "Doing okay," and tugged at his father's sleeve to draw his attention away from the argument that was brewing.

"That's good to hear. You're not in too much pain?"

"Give him back the pad so he can answer you, Henry!"

"I don't need you to tell me what to do every minute of my life!"

With a sigh, Beck took the pad back himself and wrote: "How long until the anesthetic wears off?"

When he held up the message for his parents to see, they suddenly fell silent. His father began to chew anxiously on his lip.

"What anesthetic, dear?" his mother said slowly, as if dreading the answer.

"Whatever they put in my face to numb it," he wrote. _Shouldn't that be obvious? What's upsetting them so much, anyway?_

His parents looked at one another. A tear appeared in the corner of his mother's eye.

"…Tell him, Henry. I can't."

"Why do you have to put the burden on me? Do you really think it's going to be any easier for me to say it? Do you think it doesn't hurt me as much as it does you?"

"I didn't mean that, I just…I can't…"

As she began to sob, her husband patted her on the shoulder, awkwardly, like someone who'd forgotten how to show affection to another human being.

The door opened and a physician walked in – an Hispanic woman, barely out of her twenties it seemed, but with an air of brisk competence that belied her youthful face. When she saw Beck awake, she smiled. "Hello, Mr. Oliver. I'm Dr. Martinez. Glad to see you're back with us."

"Beck is fine," he wrote.

"Beck it is. I'm just going to do a quick check of your vital signs, okay?"

Before she could place her stethoscope to his chest, Beck scribbled on the notepad: "When will my face not be numb?"

She halted. "Oh. Oh, dear." For a moment, her mask of professionalism slipped, and he could see the pain she felt.

Now Beck was truly frightened. He sat up, ripped off the page, threw it aside, and scrawled, so quickly that it was almost illegible: "What's going on?"

The physician put a steadying hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down onto the pillow. "Please try to relax. Stressing yourself out won't help matters one bit."

He tried to take a deep breath, to calm himself. But only one side of his mouth – the right – would open fully; the other remained stubbornly half-closed. Now, more than ever, he was conscious of the dead weight that took up half his face.

Dr. Martinez spoke softly, hesitantly. "The local anesthesia we gave you wore off some time ago. What you're feeling now is the result of your injuries."

"I don't understand," he wrote.

"Well…there's two things we have to be concerned with here. One is the scarring on your skin. It's very severe – although it could have been much worse if your friends hadn't taken such quick action – but we may be able to replace some or most of it with tissue grafts. It'll take a long time, and you're looking at a number of surgeries-"

"Money is no object," his father broke in.

She nodded curtly, but her attention remained on Beck. "However…"

Beck steeled himself.

"The acid burns cauterized the nerve endings in your cheek and jaw. Even if we restore the skin, you'll never regain full mobility in the left side of your face. That's…" She sighed. "That's why you're experiencing that numbness right now. It's not going to go away, I'm afraid."

"Mirror," he wrote.

Dr. Martinez hesitated. "I'm…not sure that's such a good idea. You need time to adjust, to clear your head-"

"MIRROR!" Beck cried aloud. The voice that issued forth was one he had never heard before – heavy and slurred, like the desperate moan of a drunkard.

Beck's parents looked to the physician, who nodded slowly. His mother pulled out her compact and placed it in his unsteady hand. He flipped it open.

The expression he had worn in those first horrific moments after the acid struck him was frozen on his face. His heavily bandaged left cheek was still contorted in agony, even though the pain that had caused the muscles to twist out of true was long since gone. The left corner of his upper lip was pulled back so far that it rendered his mouth grotesquely asymmetrical.

His fingers went limp; the compact fell to the floor.

_I'll never act again. Never __**smile **__again. For the rest of my life, I'll walk around looking like the reflection in some damn funhouse mirror._

"Beck?" said his father, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You know that, whatever your mother and I may be going through, we both love you, and we're here for you. Whatever it takes – medicine, physical therapy, surgery – we'll make it happen. I'll spend every dime I _have_ if I have to."

Beck nodded, staring at the ceiling – not really listening, or caring.

"What do you want us to do first? What would help you the most?"

He considered the question dispassionately.

Through his mind flickered scenes from his future life. The Amy Sullivans of the world would turn away from him in disgust, no question about it. Not that it should matter; he had always told himself that he didn't need the attention of the air-headed bimbos who were constantly flocking to him, that they annoyed him, that it would be a relief for them to be gone.

And yet – without them, what was he? If you took the "handsome" away from "handsome Beck", what, really, was left?

Was anything left at all?

His thoughts turned to Jade. She, at least, would not abandon him. None of his friends would. They would go to the movies with him, and have dinner with him, and invite him on beach trips, just as they always had. Only now, they wouldn't be acting out of affection, but pity. _Poor, deformed Beck. We can't leave him in the lurch – after all, he hasn't __**got**__ anybody else._

Jade would pity him more than anyone – but she wouldn't love him. Never again. It was his winning smile, his effortless physical grace, that had caught her eye that first year at Hollywood Arts, and without those, he had no hope of rekindling the feelings she had once had for him.

There was really only one answer he could give to his father's question.

He did not scribble this time; he took his time, writing out each word in immense block capitals with a perfectly steady pen, underlining each twice. At last he handed over the pad.

"JUST LET ME DIE."


	3. Shock Therapy

**A/N: 22 reviews for only two chapters? My theory has been confirmed: the best way to attract readers is to take beloved characters and do horrible, horrible things to them. Look forward to my next tale, wherein Cat gets her leg bitten off by a shark and Andre contracts a flesh-eating virus! (Okay, maybe not.)**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

The sound of music drifted faintly down the stairs to where Beck's parents sat at the dining room table.

"Should we tell him to turn it off and come out?" asked his mother. "He's been in there all day. He won't even eat…"

"Look, Marcia, unless we physically drag him out, he's not leaving. It's his refuge. And frankly, if he's forced to face the world, in the state he's in…well, I don't really want to think about the possible psychological consequences. His emotional state is fragile enough as it is."

"But is it _safe_ to leave him alone? He said that he wanted to…"

"Yeah, I know what he said. But we've taken everything out of there that he could possibly harm himself with. For now, all we can do is wait and hope that he decides to crawl back out of his shell."

The doorbell rang. Beck's mother opened the front door, and was greeted by a cluster of teenagers standing on the front stoop.

A slender brunette with high cheekbones spoke first. "Um…Mrs. Oliver? Could we speak to Beck?"

It took Marcia a moment to ransack her memory and find the girl's name. "Oh, yes. Tori Vega. The one responsible for getting my husband mauled by a dog. Have you decided to play therapist now?"

"Well, no, but Beck refused to let any of us visit him while he was in the hospital, and we're all worried about him."

"I appreciate that, but Beck's still not in the mood for visitors. It would probably be better for you to come back another day."

"And waste the trip? Not going to happen." Jade West pushed her way to the front, shoving Tori aside roughly. "At least let _me_ talk to him. He needs me."

"_Needs_ you?" snapped Marcia. "You, missy, are poison. You tore my boy's heart in two, and it's _never_ completely healed. The best thing you can do for him now is to get your worthless rear end out of this city and never come back."

"That's not going to happen. Now, are you going to stand aside, or not?"

"Why should I?"

"Because…" Jade's voice grew quieter. "Because, even if Beck and I have an…unpleasant…history, that doesn't mean I don't care about him. I can't just sit by and do nothing while he's suffering." She was desperate now. "At least give me a chance. Five minutes with him – that's all I'm asking. Please."

Marcia was startled – never before, in all the years she had known Jade, had she heard the girl use the word "please". She looked from Jade to the others behind her, all of them hopeful, all of them anxious.

At last she stepped to one side. "Five minutes. No longer."

Without even so much as a "Thank you," Jade burst past her and up the stairs.

The door to Beck's room was shut tight. A poster had hung on it for as long as Jade could remember – Marlon Brando, in the "I coulda been a contender" scene from _On the Waterfront_. Beck's favorite actor in his favorite film. Now, the handsome face of the young Brando had been slashed to ribbons with a box cutter, and the remnants of the poster hung in limp, sorrowful strips, moving gently to and fro in the breeze from the air conditioner. Through the door she could hear some all too familiar musical strains:

"Suddenly I can see what I couldn't before / And I don't care what they say anymore / Cause I'm fallin', fallin' / Finally fallin', fallin'…"

Suddenly uncertain of herself, she knocked hesitantly. "Beck? Beck, it's Jade. Can I come in?"

There was no answer.

"Are you okay in there?"

Still nothing.

She tried the knob. To her surprise, it turned freely under her fingers. "Beck?" she called again as she opened the door a crack. "I'm coming in. I hope you're not naked or anything…"

He wasn't. He sat cross-legged on his bed, the damaged side of his face turned to the wall. The room was dark – the lights off, the blinds tightly drawn – and Jade could barely make him out at first. The last notes of "Finally Falling" issued from the stereo; then the song started over, on an endless loop.

"You're not mad at me, are you? I know I'm kind of a bull in a china shop, bursting into your house like this…"

As she approached, his expression remained unchanged. His right eye stared vacantly into space. Normally she could sense what was on his mind without much difficulty, but now it appeared that he had sealed his innermost thoughts behind an impregnable wall.

She spotted a plate of cold chicken and broccoli, completely untouched, that sat on an end table. "You're not eating? That's no good, dude. No good at all. You'll compromise your immune system, and then your…" She had trouble even saying the word. "…wounds…will get infected. You don't want to wind up in the hospital again, do you? I know how much you hate hospitals."

He might as well have been a mannequin.

There was only one thing to do, she decided. She sidled toward the end of the bed and stepped around, trying to look at him directly.

Still his gaze did not move; but from his twisted mouth came the gruff words: "Don't you dare."

"Why? Do you think I'm going to recoil in disgust or something?"

"No." His blank stare was beginning to unnerve her. "But no one should have to see me like this."

"Sooner or later, they'll _have_ to, unless you plan on staying in this room for the rest of your freaking life."

"Would that be so bad?"

"I'm gonna go with 'yes' on that one."

At last he moved. His shoulders slumped; his whole body sagged. "Just leave, Jade. I appreciate the concern, really, but unless you've got a magic wand you can wave to fix my ugliness, there's nothing you can do for me." He gestured at the stereo, which was blaring "And beautiful is all I see…" "Remember this? " he said. "How Tori got that zombie mask stuck to her face, and it came off at the last minute? I keep replaying it in my mind, and I keep thinking, 'That'll never happen to me. _This_ mask is never coming off.'"

Jade was rapidly growing frustrated. This wasn't the man she knew so well – this was a morbid, cowardly stranger. She would have to take a risk, and take it now, or the old Beck Oliver would be irretrievably lost.

"You know what's ugly about you right now?" she snapped. "It's not your face – you know perfectly well I don't give a damn about that. It's your wallowing in self-pity. 'Poor me. Oh, whatever shall I _do_? I'm eighteen years old, and my life is ruined.' You're like Hamlet, only even more emo."

That got his attention. His head snapped up. "You've got a lot of nerve. How can you possibly understand what I'm feeling?"

It was an opening, and she was quick to seize it. "I can't, not completely. But I know a lot of things that you seem to have forgotten. I know you have friends who care about you, and who won't ever abandon you – unless you abandon them first. I know you have parents who are quietly dying inside while their son sits in his room and starves himself. And I know you're stronger than this. I know you can beat it. But you have to _want_ to beat it – I can't fight your battle for you, even though I wish I could, more than anything."

"I'm…I'm not sure I _do_ want to."

"Yeah? In that case, enjoy the dark, 'cause you're never coming out of it again." She went to the door.

Just as her hand grasped the knob, he said, almost inaudibly: "Wait."

"What? What is it?"

"Stay with me. Please."

Her heart broke. "Oh, God, Beck…I can't. I can't stay. If you want us to be together, you need to follow me."

"I'm getting a distinct sense of déjà vu here," he grumbled. "The last time you told me to follow you or else, it didn't end too well."

The memory of that bitter day struck her full in the chest like a dagger. "I'll give you that. But this – this is about more than a fight on some stupid game show. This is your _life_ we're talking about, Beck. Take it or leave it."

He fell silent.

Jade sighed. "Okay, then. I guess this is goodbye. Take care of yourself."

She pulled the door closed and began the slow, agonizing journey down the stairs.

The door opened, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned.

His terribly scarred face was all too clear under the fluorescent light from the ceiling. But the half of his mouth that could still function seemed to be shaping itself into something like a tiny smile.

"I'll make you a deal. I try life outside for one day. One. And I'm not making any promises, Jade. If I decide I can't take it, if I prefer the darkness to the light, you have to let me make that choice."

She grasped his hand tightly and shook it. "You've got a deal, buddy. And don't worry – we'll start you off slow. There's seven people besides us in this house, and not a one of them who doesn't love you. Think you can handle facing them?"

"…Yeah. I'll manage somehow."

Jade squeezed his hand once, then let go. With him following at her heels, they descended.

One step at a time.


	4. Water's Edge

**A/N: To the anonymous reviewer who asked for this story's hand in marriage: I'm very flattered, but I consulted my lawyer, and he informed me that human-fiction marriage isn't yet legal in the state where I live. Or any other state, actually.**

**Seriously, though – I'm glad people are enjoying this. I never dreamed that a story centered on my least favorite character would become my most popular ever. This is not the most enjoyable time in my life, to be frank, and your positive feedback is a big part of what's keeping me going.**

It was an unusually cool day for June in southern California, and there were far fewer people on the beach than Beck had expected. Except for the occasional Frisbee-tossing interloper, he and his friends were left largely to themselves for their impromptu cookout.

Andre was in charge of the grill, and was tending to his steaks with the attention most people would only lavish on babies. Cat, Robbie, and Tori were playing a game of tag, which was clearly little more than an excuse to feel the wet sand squishing between their toes. Trina, floating lazily on her back in the surf, was trying to coax Jade to join her, with no success.

Beck himself would have loved to take a dip, but he couldn't risk bringing his yet-unhealed injuries into contact with the salt water. Instead, he contented himself by exploring the length of the beach, until he found a small tide pool and sat to study the tiny creatures within.

It fascinated him – this microcosm of the vast ocean, all contained within the narrow compass of a single broken rock. Years ago, when he was still in elementary school, he had dreamed of being a wildlife biologist, swimming with dolphins, maybe, or tracking a pride of lions on the African savanna. But then he was bitten by the acting bug, and everything else had fallen by the wayside.

Looking back, he wasn't sure that this was such a good thing. Ever since he took his first theater class, it had dominated his life. Whenever he had toyed with the idea of trying out for the basketball team, or writing a novel, or volunteering for Habitat for Humanity, a single thought slammed the door on the possibility: _It'll take time away from acting. You're going to be a star, Beck. Nothing can get in the way of that. Nothing._

The sole concession he had made to his childhood dream was the aquarium he kept in his RV. In the rare moments when he couldn't bring himself to rehearse another line, he would take comfort in the placid, untroubled lives of his tropical fish, swimming in their endless circles as if there could be nothing more fulfilling in all the world. He envied them, in a strange sort of way.

The delicious scent of slow-simmering barbecue mingled with the salty air and insinuated itself into his nose. His stomach growled.

"Get a move on, will you, Andre? I'm starving over here!" he called down the beach to his distant friend.

"Aw, man, you know you can't rush genius."

Beck rolled his eyes. This was all Tori's fault – she was the one who had convinced Andre that he was a master chef. Then again, in Tori's eyes, he probably was. Beck had never known a couple so ridiculously smitten with one another; six months after their moving in together, and they were still giggling like schoolchildren whenever they were within ten feet of each other.

It was so different from the way he and Jade had once been. They may have loved each other, but on the surface, at least, they were like oil and water; it seemed as though they could always find something to fight about, even in their happiest moments. It bad been a deeply unhealthy relationship. Everyone he knew said so. Too much frustration, too much pain – just not worth it.

So why did he miss it so much?

He realized, with a start, that Jade was coming toward him at this very moment, her face still showing the irritation that dealing with Trina always brought her. For a moment he found himself thinking, as he had done many times before, that it was ironic how someone who refused to dip a toe in the ocean looked so darn good in a bathing suit. Her hips swayed gently back and forth as she walked; her hair swished in the wind, falling down the nape of her neck…the nape that he suddenly wanted to kiss so very, very badly…

"Stare any harder, Oliver, and your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets."

"…Sorry." He turned away quickly.

"No big deal. Any chance I could talk you into joining the rest of our merry little band?"

"I will once the food's ready, I promise. But for now…this is nice." He motioned toward the endless expanse of gray-green. "It helps clear the mind, watching the ocean. I feel as though I'm in touch with the rhythms of the world."

Jade smiled. "Beck Oliver waxing philosophical? I never thought I'd see the day."

"First time for everything."

"I just hope it's not the_ last_ time. You've always been smarter than you give yourself credit for, Beck – it's nice to see you thinking about something more than whether you're low on hair gel."

_Smarter than you give yourself credit for._ As he gazed upon the waves teeming with life, the thought bounced around and echoed in his head.

Abruptly he said: "There's a lot of community colleges around L.A, aren't there?"

"Oh yeah."

"And you can take a lot of the same basic courses there that you would at a four-year school, right?"

"I guess…what are you getting at?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking that I might want to catch up on some stuff I missed out on at HA. Science, mainly."

"So you'd postpone Juilliard for a year, then?"

"More like postpone it forever."

Jade's jaw dropped. "Are you freaking _kidding_ me? A full ride to the best arts school in the country, and you want to throw it away?"

"It was 'thrown away' the moment I got a faceful of acid," he said darkly.

"They can't withdraw their offer just because of that! And besides, it's not like you've magically lost your talent. You're still the best actor HA ever had."

"Maybe so, but what does it matter? When I look like this, I could be the second coming of Laurence Olivier and I still wouldn't get any part bigger than 'Henchman no. 2'. I've got to face reality, Jade."

"Well…your parents aren't going to like it, that's for sure. But at least you'd get to stay in town. And maybe we could hang out now and then. I'll just be over at UCLA."

"Oh, you'll be in LA too? I'd..uh…forgotten that."

"Really?"

"…No."

Jade chuckled. "Listen, I'm going to go yell at Andre until he gets his perfectionist butt in gear. You sure you don't want to come?"

"Not just yet. But, Jade…"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For dragging me out here, I mean. I needed this."

"You're darn right you did. Mopiness doesn't suit you. At all. And…you're welcome," she softly added.

He watched her as she headed back, then returned his attention to the tide pool. A crab scuttled sideways, claws held high. Slender fish with silver-mottled backs darted to and fro, seemingly oblivious to Beck's presence. High above gulls cried as they eyed the turbulent surface of the waves for a midday snack.

Beck dangled his toes in the water, sending the small fish scurrying into nooks and crannies in the rocks around the edge of the pool. Bending over, he caught sight of the reflection of his face.

With a smile, he began to churn his feet, until the water was in a froth. Scars, clouds, and sun – everything reflected in the pool dissolved into ripples.

_This really isn't so bad. Not so bad at all…_

"Help!" a faint voice cried. "Somebody help!"

Beck looked down the beach. A few hundred yards away lay a lonely stretch of sand, with no lifeguard to watch over it. Out to sea a young boy – no more than six – foundered in the waves. He was fighting with all his strength to keep his head above water, but it was clearly a losing battle. Nearer to shore a frantic woman – no doubt his mother – tried again and again to swim out to him, and was driven back each time by the tide.

Beck didn't hesitate. Ripping off his cumbersome bandages in mid-stride, he dived into the sea.

As he had known would happen, the moment the salt water touched his face it felt as though a great hand were tearing away his raw flesh. Yet he didn't stop. Stroke by powerful stroke, he made his way toward the drowning boy.

The waves grew choppier. The boy was swallowing water now. He gasped, waved his arm weakly one final time, and disappeared beneath the surface.

Beck took as deep a breath as his lungs would hold and went down after him. After a few frantic moments of searching, he spotted the fragile little body floating in the murk. He took hold with both hands and heaved the boy over his head, up into the fresh air. The child's chest began to heave as he spat and coughed. Silently, Beck thanked God.

With the boy safely tucked under his arm, he made for shore. The woman ran to meet them as Beck laid her son gently on the sand; from the corner of his eye he could see Jade running toward him.

"Tommy! Oh, Tommy!" The boy's mother knelt to make sure he was breathing, then rose and flung her arms around Beck, unembarrassed to hug a total stranger. "God bless you. You saved my boy. I'll never forget this."

Tommy's eyes slowly opened. He stared at Beck.

The scream was ear-splitting. "Get him away from me, Mommy! Get him _away_!"

"Tommy!" his mother cried. "This man just saved your life! Don't talk to him like that-"

"Get him away! I don't want to look at him anymore! He's an ugly monster!" The boy kicked and clawed at Beck's legs with all the fury of a cornered wildcat.

Beck jumped back out of reach. The boy promptly clambered to his feet, then ran and hid himself behind his mother, cringing.

"I'm so, so sorry," she said, wringing her hands. "My son is grateful to you. Really, he is."

"He's got a funny way of showing it," Beck hissed.

_So that's how it's going to be, huh? I save a life, and my reward is being called a monster. Well, if that's the way the world wants to treat me, then to __**hell**__ with the world._

As he stalked away, Jade frantically called after him: "Beck, it doesn't mean anything. You have to realize that. He's just a kid – a silly, frightened kid."

"Yeah? And how many _more_ frightened kids am I going to meet in my life? It's never going to end, Jade."

She ran after him and took hold of his shoulder. "You're not thinking clearly. You can't just throw everything away like this!"

"You made me a promise, remember? Time for you to keep it. I tried life outside – it didn't work. That's all there is to it. Now leave me alone." He shrugged off her grip and kept walking.

"Please, Beck…"

But it was too late. He had already rounded a sand dune and disappeared, leaving Jade alone with the sound of the breaking waves.


	5. The Education of Beckett Oliver

**A/N: How's **_**this**_** for a quick update?**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

The moment Beck returned to his house, he knew that he couldn't bear to face his parents. He hadn't failed to notice the light of hope in their eyes when he had left with his friends for the beach. Retreating to his room now would surely snuff that light out, and he would hate himself for it.

Instead he instinctively went to the one place in the world where he knew no one would bother him: his RV.

He slumped onto the little couch and flicked on the TV. A thoroughly obnoxious man with a loud voice was attempting to sell his viewers on the virtues of some new diet pill. The next channel over, Clint Eastwood exchanged gunfire with three rough-looking crooks on a San Francisco wharf.

Beck remembered when he had first bought this TV. He and Jade had baptized it with a late-night viewing of _Casablanca_, complete with popcorn, cuddling, and Jade's eerily accurate Ingrid Bergman impression. It was the first night in his life that he could genuinely call "perfect"…

Angrily he switched the set off and turned its screen to the wall.

What else was there to pass the time? A basketball. He bounced it off the walls loudly, thinking of Steve McQueen in _The Great Escape_, who relied on his baseball to keep him sane when the Germans sealed him in "the box". Jade had never liked that movie much – except for the theme music. She never failed to sing along to Elmer Bernstein's stirring march: "Doo doo…doo DOO doo doo doo…" Even though Beck had long ago convinced himself that he couldn't sing a lick, he would always join in, sooner or later, and they would play around with silly harmonies until they both collapsed in helpless laughter.

_Damn it, isn't there __**anything**__ here that doesn't remind me of her?_

At last he gave up. From a drawer he pulled a roll of sticking plasters and applied them to his aching face haphazardly. A poorly wrapped mummy stared at him from the mirror. He put on an old, almost threadbare Oakland Raiders sweatshirt and lifted up the hood, adjusting it carefully. Finally he found an angle at which most of his injuries were hidden. It was growing dark outside, even though it was still early afternoon; the shadows would help to conceal him too.

Quickly he swallowed a handful of painkillers, not even bothering with water to wash them down, and left.

He hadn't walked more than a few miles when the clouds above opened up and the rain began to pour. The sweatshirt absorbed the hammering raindrops and quickly grew uncomfortably heavy. Beck looked up and down the street for a refuge.

A welcoming sign beckoned: _Northern Los Angeles Community College – McKenzie Lecture Hall._ He ducked inside.

A biology class was in session. Tier upon tier of students scribbled frantic notes while, down below, an elderly man in a tweed suit explained the mating cycle of the humpback whale. Beck slid into an empty seat in the top row, unnoticed.

"So, you see," the professor was saying in a thin, reedy voice, "the instincts that drive human behavior – the need for food, sleep, shelter, and sex – can provide us with a useful schema to make sense of the sometimes puzzling behavior of other animals. A humpback whale isn't so different from you or me, when you come down to it."

"But…" Beck realized, to his horror, that he had spoken out loud.

Dozens of curious heads snapped around. The professor, too, looked up from his lectern. "I take it you have something to add, Mister...?"

"Um, Oliver," he mumbled.

"Then please share it. But first, no caps, hats or hoods in my classroom, if you please."

_Oh, God…_ "I'd really prefer to keep it on, sir…"

"I'm afraid I must insist."

Slowly, Beck lowered his hood.

A few eyes widened around the room, but most waited patiently for him to continue.

"It's…it's just that I'm not so sure we can think of animals in human terms. Not _all_ animals, anyway." As he spoke and saw the professor listening with keen interest, he began to gain confidence. His voice grew louder, clearer. "What about, say, an octopus? We know octopi are smart. They can figure out how to open corked bottles, remember color and shape combinations, stuff like that. But, when you look into the eyes of an octopus, you just…I don't know how to put this scientifically, but…you just _know _that there's something going on in that brain that you'll never understand, any more than it could understand you. It's like first contact with some creature from another planet, almost."

"I see. But don't you think that an attitude like yours would make the study of animal behavior a useless endeavor? Wouldn't it lead to our throwing up our hands and saying 'Animals are too alien for us to fathom, so why bother trying'?"

"No, sir. I don't think it would. It may make things more challenging, but that's part of the excitement of science, isn't it? Pushing the boundaries of what's possible?"

The professor gave a small, knowing smile. "Kindly remain a few minutes after class is over, will you, Mr. Oliver?"

"…All right."

The lecture resumed. Beck pulled out his PearPad and began typing notes, fascinated.

When the professor had finished and the other students quietly shuffled out, a sheepish Beck descended the rows to the lectern. "Sir, I'm so sorry about interrupting you. I know it was totally uncalled for."

"It was a little surprising, I'll admit, but it's good to be challenged once in a while. We teachers can get complacent, listening to the sound of our own voices for hours on end. Will I be seeing you in my class again, I hope?"

"Um…the thing is, I'm kinda not officially enrolled…"

"I figured as much. The college generally frowns on freeloaders, but I imagine I could turn a blind eye if you were to return." The professor winked.

"Thank you, sir. You don't know how much that means to me."

"No need for thanks – just be here on Thursday at 3:00 P.M. sharp for the next class. And be sure to bring that questioning spirit with you."

Outside it was still pouring, but Beck didn't care in the slightest. He ripped off his sweatshirt and let the thin T-shirt underneath grow soaked as he stood on the sidewalk and looked up into the sky. The memory of the terrified child on the beach melted away and vanished.

_I've got a future. I really do. I don't have to be just a "freak" – there are people out there who can look past my face and focus on what's in my mind. Jade was right._

_Jade was right…and I pushed her away. I told her to leave me alone. Forever._

_Dear God, what have I __**done?**_

A taxi was approaching. Beck waved with both hands to flag it down, but the driver 's attention was fixated on the wet asphalt, and he didn't notice the frantic teenager.

Acting on impulse, Beck ran out into the middle of the street. The taxi driver slammed on his brakes and swore as the car pulled to a stop with its front bumper inches from Beck's body.

"Geez, kid, you almost gave me a heart attack! Are you crazy, or have you got some kind of a death wish?"

Beck poured out the entire contents of his wallet into the stunned driver's lap. "Take it. Whatever you want. Just get me to 1150 West Johnson Avenue as fast as you can. Run red lights. Drive on the _sidewalk_ if you have to."

"You really _are_ crazy," said the driver as he eyed the thick wad of bills. "But they say the customer is always right…"

Moments later, the taxi sped away through the rain. In the back seat, Beck clenched his knuckles until they turned white.

_Please, let it not be too late._


	6. As Time Goes By

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

He jumped out of the taxi a much poorer man than he had been when he got in, but it made no difference. Jade's car was in her driveway. He still had a chance.

Thunder boomed as he rang her doorbell. When there was no answer, he leaned on it, holding it for a full five seconds, then, desperate, began to bang on the door with his fist.

Finally it opened, and he was greeted by a black-clad, stony-faced Jade West.

Now that they were actually face to face, he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say. "Can…can I come in? It's kind of like Noah's Flood out here," he finally stammered.

She motioned for him to follow her into the living room, but didn't speak. He watched with embarrassment as water sloshed off him and formed a dark stain on the carpet.

Jade took up a position at the far end of the room, with her hands behind her back and her eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond Beck's chest. She was as still and stiff as a Chinese terra cotta warrior.

"So…what a day, huh?" he began with a forced chuckle. "Been pretty crazy all around…"

He waited for her to answer, for some sign that she had at least heard him. None came.

Suddenly his mental block came undone, and words gushed out in a torrent. "I'm so sorry, Jade. I was impulsive, and stubborn, and stupid. After everything you did for me, I had no right to drive you off. No right at all. And I don't have any right to ask this, either, but is there any way you can possibly forgive me?"

Jade adjusted the position of her feet slightly, seemingly still fascinated by that invisible point.

He was panicking now. "Babe, please, just say _something._ Tell me to go to hell if you want. God knows I deserve it. Tell me you're going to cut up all my clothes with your favorite pair of scissors and throw rotten eggs at my RV. But don't just shut me out like this. I can't bear it."

She leaned back against a cabinet and folded her arms. He could almost see the aura of ice forming around her.

"Do you want me to get down on my knees and grovel? Is that it? Because…because I will. I'm not a proud man, Jade. Not anymore. I understand now that I can't go it alone. I need people to rely on. I…" His voice cracked. "…need you. More than anything or anyone in this world."

Jade scratched at her neck absently. Her gaze drifted to a far corner of the room.

"People always used to say that I was your anchor. I was the calm, collected one, keeping you from flying off the handle and lashing out at everyone around you. But that's only half of it. You were _my_ anchor, too. When I was...like I was before…I was tempted all the time. These gorgeous women throwing themselves at me one after the other – I wanted to give in so badly sometimes. But I couldn't, because I knew I already had someone who was worth all the bleach-blondes in the world put together, and I wouldn't dare do anything that would throw that away. When we broke up, I let that dark side of me take over. I turned into a smug jerk, Jade, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise."

She gave no hint as to whether she agreed or disagreed. Beck ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, turning it into a tangled black mess.

"But this accident…I can't believe I'm saying this, it's completely insane, but…it may have been the best thing that ever happened to me. It's made me rethink everything. I know who I am, and I know what I want. And that's you. Only you."

He prayed for her to answer, but she only chewed lazily on her lip.

"I'm wasting my breath, aren't I?" he said at last.

Slowly, still not looking him in the eyes, she nodded.

"Fine," he said, trying to put on a brave show though his heart was breaking. "Like I said, I don't blame you. And I'll be grateful for what you did for me, until the day I die."

He turned to go.

"You're wasting your breath," Jade said quietly, "because you didn't need to say a word."

"W-what?"

"You came, Beck. You didn't bury yourself in sorrow again, or run away from your problems. You came to me. And the minute I saw you on my doorstep, it told me everything I needed to know."

Her face broke into the most radiant smile he had ever seen.

He ran to her and held her tightly. "Oh, babe – I don't deserve you…"

"That's funny – I always thought_ I_ didn't deserve _you_. Maybe…maybe it's time we stopped worrying about what's fair, and focused on what feels right."

She punctuated the words by reaching up to kiss him. Instinctively he turned away.

"I'm still hideous, Jade."

"Not to me, you're not."

"I know, but…I don't know whether I'm ready for that yet."

She nodded gently. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere. For now, though – may I have this dance?"

"Dance?" he replied, puzzled. "What do you…"

She drew a slender remote from her pocket and pressed a button. Somewhere in the depths of the darkened house, a voice, rich as velvet, began to croon:

_You must remember this_

_A kiss is still a kiss_

_A sigh is just a sigh_

_The fundamental things apply_

_As time goes by…_

"_Casablanca_," he whispered. "You remembered."

"How could I possibly forget?" Jade leaned her head against his chest and they began to move, slowly, gracefully, about the living room.

_But,_ he thought as he spun her, _if she already had this music set up, then…_

"You _knew_," he said in amazement. "You _knew_ I would come."

"I may have had an inkling. You're pretty predictable, you know. And anyway, we always seem to find our way back to each other. No matter how long it takes."

"I guess we do, at that."

And then there were no more words. Jade buried herself in the warmth of Beck's embrace, and they danced as one, while the soft piano strains tinkled, and the distant voice sang:

_And when two lovers woo,_

_They still say 'I love you,'_

_On that you can rely-_

_The world will always welcome lovers_

_As time goes by…_


	7. Graduation Day

**A/N: A short chapter, but, I hope, an enjoyable one. There'll be one more after this – one of my infamous "distant epilogues".**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

Beck stumbled under the weight of his textbooks as he made his way up the stairs and out of the lecture hall. He always sat in the front row now – not to play "teacher's pet," but because he was deathly afraid of missing anything the professor might say. This was his chance to make something meaningful out of his life, and no power on earth would make him mess it up.

Outside in the darkened street, he tried to balance the books in one hand while reaching for his car keys with the other. Suddenly he was grabbed from behind. A blindfold was slipped over his eyes, while someone else's strong hands seized the textbooks.

"Hey!" he cried out. "What the _hell_-"

"Oh, relax, Oliver."

"_Jade_?"

"Well, it ain't the Easter Bunny, that's for sure."

"No worries, Beck," came another voice, which he recognized as Andre's. "I'll take care of your stuff. Right now, we're goin' on a little ride."

"Um…okay…"

"Trust me," Jade said softly in his ear. "It'll be worth it."

Her sultry voice was enough to smooth his anxieties over for the time being. Jade and Andre helped him into the backseat of a car, and they sped away.

When the car finally stopped after twenty minutes, Beck assumed the blindfold would be taken off; but instead he was led, stumbling in the darkness, into a building and through a maze of corridors, his puzzlement growing with each passing moment.

He could hear double doors being heaved open. The cloth was lifted from his eyes. Immediately he recognized the familiar Black Box Theater.

Tori, Robbie, Cat, and Trina were in the front row, with their seats turned to face him. "Surprise!" they cried.

"Okay…it's great to see you guys and all, but you know it's not my birthday until November, right?"

"No," said Jade dryly, "we'd completely forgotten. Of _course_ we know, doofus. Now will you be a good boy and go up on stage already?"

He stiffened. "I don't do the acting thing anymore."

"This isn't about acting, babe. It's about taking care of some…how should I put it?... some unfinished business."

Nervously he climbed the steps to the stage and stood looking out over his assembled friends.

The curtain behind him lifted. He turned, and was greeted by a vision so bizarre that he momentarily wondered whether he was dreaming: Erwin Sikowitz in a three-piece suit. The acting teacher actually looked dapper, with what remained of his hair neatly combed and a bright red coconut-patterned tie. And yet, he hadn't entirely given in to formality, for, as ever, he was barefoot. Beck laughed out loud at the sight.

"Mr. Oliver!" Sikowitz boomed. "I believe I have something of yours."

Instinctively, Beck felt his pants pocket to see whether he was missing his wallet. He wasn't.

"No, no, no. Nothing so mundane. I was talking…about this."

He held up a framed piece of parchment.

Beck's eyes widened. "My diploma?"

"Seeing as how you were still in the hospital when we had our graduation ceremony, Jade came to me and suggested we present it to you now. Better late than never, after all."

He was unsure quite how to feel. Even though it had only been a few weeks since his accident, already it seemed as though Hollywood Arts was a thousand years in the past. The HA logo, the words "Summa Cum Laude", Principal DuBois' bold signature – all of it might as well have been relics of another lifetime, one he wasn't sure he wanted to be reminded of. And yet, he couldn't entirely suppress a smile. He had worked hard over the past four years, and distinguished himself; even if he was now on a different path, that didn't negate his achievement. But HA was, and always would be, associated in his mind with something far more important than grades or awards. For here he had built lasting friendships, and he had met the woman who – he was sure of it now – would be the one great love of his life.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the sensation of a mortarboard being placed on his head. "Andre. _If_ you please," said Sikowitz with a deep bow.

The young musician switched on his omnipresent keyboard and played a few dramatic chords fanfare-style, then segued into "Pomp and Circumstance".

Sikowitz turned to the little crowd and raised his hand high. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the newest graduate from Hollywood Arts' Class of 2013 – Mr. Beckett Lawrence Oliver!"

His friends whooped and cheered as he beamed at them. "Tassel," Sikowitz murmured in his ear.

"Huh?"

"Flip the tassel, man! Make it official!"

"Oh, right." He slid the golden tassel from the right side of the mortarboard to the left.

"And now," said Tori as she stood, "our collective graduation present."

She handed him a book wrapped in silver foil. Eagerly he tore it open.

"Castro and Huber's _Marine Biology_," he murmured, running his fingers over the smooth cover.

His expression was unreadable. Tori's brow furrowed. "You don't like it?"

Slowly he looked up. "It's the best gift anybody could have given me. Thank you. Thank you all."

One by one his friends rose and hugged him tightly. Only Jade stood apart.

"What's the matter, babe?" Beck asked.

Silently she beckoned him with her finger. He approached her.

"I've got another present for you," she said quietly.

"And just what might that be?"

The rest of the little group strained to hear what Jade was whispering in Beck's ear. The words were indistinct, but from the sly smile that slowly grew on Beck's face, they could guess the general meaning.

"But only if you're ready," Jade finished. "I don't want to push you. There's absolutely no rush – WHOA!"

Already he had swept her up into his arms and was practically sprinting out of the theater. "Guys-thanks-for-everything-youre-all-awesome-gotta-go-BYE!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"You know," said Robbie when the couple had vanished, "all _I_ got for graduation was a Snickers bar."


	8. Epilogue: Reflections

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read, followed, reviewed, alerted, etc. this story. I hope you've enjoyed it.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

_Seven years later_

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the pride and joy of San Diego Aquarium – Oberon and Titania, the performing orcas!"

The two immense black-and-white beasts erupted from the pool, somersaulted twice in the air, and crashed into the water, sending a spray over the laughing and applauding audience members in the front rows. Their trainers tossed them a reward of fish, which they chomped greedily.

Beck, watching attentively, noticed how Titania shuddered and withdrew slightly when the substitute trainer approached and tried to stroke her head. He turned to his boss, a slovenly, nervous man in his mid-forties. "I should be out there. Titania trusts me more than anybody else here – I've been working with her for almost a year now."

"I know, kid, and in an ideal world I'd happily let you perform with her, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, there are children in the audience, some of 'em really young, and they might…y'know, if they saw…" He couldn't finish the sentence, but his hand unconsciously rubbed the left side of his face, telling Beck all he needed to know.

Once the insult would have made him boil with anger, but now he merely sighed and nodded his head. "I'll go check on her once the crowd clears out, okay?"

"Yeah, great. And you might wanna take a look at her back teeth – I think she's got an abscess or something."

"No kidding," Beck muttered as his boss left. He had long ago noticed the orca's pain when she bit down too forcefully. A veterinary dentist would be coming from LA next week, and she had promised to let Beck assist in the examination.

He waited until only a handful of spectators remained, zipped up his wetsuit, and approached Titania. It pained him a little to see this magnificent animal compelled to do tricks like a performing monkey, but it paid the bills – for the aquarium, and also for Beck, who wouldn't have been able to pursue his graduate studies at UCSD without this job.

"Hey, girl," he whispered. "You did a great job today. How're you feeling?"

The orca clicked at him, rapidly and cheerfully.

"I'm going to take a look in your mouth. Is that okay?" He reached out with gloved hands and gently separated her jaws. She made no resistance.

There was no doubt about it- a nasty patch of red and black marred the inside of her jaw. He clucked his tongue in sympathy. "That's gotta be hurting you something fierce, girl. But don't you worry. We'll get it taken care of."

"Does she really understand what you're saying?" someone asked.

Beck removed his head from the orca's mouth. A freckle-faced, slightly gap-toothed boy of about thirteen was staring at him from under the brim of a Giants cap.

"I don't know, but I like to think so," he replied with a smile. "Orcas are intelligent creatures, after all." He noticed that the boy's shirt front was dripping wet. "Did you enjoy the show?"

The boy grinned. "It was cool. Got a good splash."

Beck realized that there was something oddly familiar about the youngster's face. "Have…have we met before?"

"I dunno. You do look kinda familiar, though. Hey, listen – do you think one day I could do what you do? Work with whales and stuff, I mean?"

"I don't see why not. As long as you don't mind spending a lot of time in the water, that is."

"Oh, yeah. I used to be scared of it, 'cause of somethin' that happened when I was little, but not anymore. Now I pretty much hate to be on dry land."

"Tommy!" a woman's voice called. "Hurry up! We're headed to the cafeteria!"

"Coming, Mom!" he yelled back. "Listen, I hope I didn't bother you, mister."

"Not at all," said Beck quietly. "Not one bit. And good luck."

He watched the boy run off. _Guess I'm not the only one who's matured with age._

Titania clicked and whistled again. "What is it, girl? You can't be hungry – you just ate!"

She stuck her snout out of the water and waited patiently.

Beck laughed aloud. "Oh, you want a kiss!" He planted one on her wet, smooth skin, and listened to her screech joyfully.

"Seeing other women behind my back, are you?" came a voice from the top row of the bleachers. Beck looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun, to spy a familiar black-clad figure.

"It's purely platonic, I swear!"

"Yeah, likely story," Jade Oliver replied as she came down the steps. "Who was that kid you were talking to just now?"

"He was…I guess you could call him an old friend. Speaking of which," he said as he got to his feet, "how's Tori?"

"_Vega_ has the worst taste of anyone I've ever met. She wants us bridesmaids to wear orange dresses. _Orange!_ Can you believe it?"

"Well, seeing as how _you_ made all _your_ bridesmaids wear black, it might just be a case of karma coming home to roost."

"Careful, buddy, or I'll push you in the water."

"If I go in, you're going in with me!" He grabbed her about the waist.

"Beck Oliver, don't you dare! I just had my hair done – NOOOO!"

As they toppled into the water, Beck caught, for one brief moment, a glimpse of both their faces reflected in the sunlit surface.

And, he decided, he had never seen anything more beautiful.


End file.
